


Dreaming Is Free

by seamonster



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Bottom swerve for your enjoyment, Confessions, Conjunx Endura, Cuddles, First Kiss, Fluff, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Movie Night, Non-binary Reader - Freeform, One singular mentioned oc, Other, Possessive Behavior, Reader-Insert, Seeker flirting, Seeker reader, Semi-Public Sex, Shattered glass au meets TFP, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Wing flirting, bot reader, field play, like holy shit fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:07:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 14,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24209452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seamonster/pseuds/seamonster
Summary: This is where I shall post any and all Transformer-related works, not an ongoing series, but a series of oneshots. Tags will be added as needed.Requests are closed while I deal with real life for a bit.Rules in chapter one. If you're here to request, read chapter one first! If you're here to read, it'll be chapter two onwards.
Relationships: Boulder/Reader, Bumblebee/Reader, Chase/Reader, Heatwave (Transformers)/You, Rodimus Prime/You, Rodimus/Reader, Rung (Transformers)/You, Rung/Reader, Starscream (Transformers)/You, Swerve (Transformers)/You, Swerve/Reader, Tailgate (Transformers)/You, Tailgate/Reader, Whirl (Transformers)/You, Whirl/Reader, blades/reader
Comments: 54
Kudos: 171





	1. Rules!!!

_**THE RULES:** _

**1.** REQUESTS WILL BE ACCEPTED ON THIS CHAPTER ONLY. Please leave them as a comment. If you drop your request or prompts in any of the following chapters to come, I will quite literally pretend like they don't exist and possibly even delete it without answering; so please be aware of where you're leaving the request. I just want to keep them all in one place so it's less of a mess.

 **2.** ONLY REQUEST THE TAGGED PAIRINGS. I know that seems obvious, but I've received requests in the past on tumblr where folks were asking for pairings I do not write for, and then got persnickety when I told them no. That being said, if you ask for a pairing not tagged, I'll likely ignore and delete it.

 **3.** JUST BECAUSE YOU REQUESTED IT, DOESN'T MEAN I'LL WRITE IT. It's an open invitation, not a promise, but I will give your prompt or request credit unless it is posted anonymously.

Aside from that, I'm open to a lot of stuff! **And while I do write NSFW stuff on occasion, don't be surprised if I accept those requests less often than others.** Feel free to request readers of all types! Though I do try to make them all either Gender non-specific or Non-Binary to make most everyone feel included. Also feel free to drop wild AU's and crazy ideas! 

Let's have fun!


	2. Swerve/human reader SFW

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hellooo, i don't have much to say, just trying to get myself back into writing things again. So here are some robot husbands. Please feel free to leave a request!
> 
> -seamo

Swerve couldn’t believe that you’d fallen asleep.

It wasn’t because you were both in the middle of watching one of his favorite Earth movies, he knew you’d seen it before. He was honestly still reeling over the fact that you’d wanted to hang out with him at all. That  _ you’d _ asked  _ him _ . A whole evening watching films in his habsuite, just the two of you? He’d never bumbled out a yes so quickly to anything in his life, and your eyes lit up like stars and Swerve was pretty sure you heard his cooling fans kick on and…

And then you’d asked to sit in his lap. He’d gone to some lengths to make a “couch” for you both to sit on, something cushioned and comfortable. Blankets and everything, but you wanted to sit on him! He’d flustered but pulled a small pillow over his thighs for you to clamber up on, looking pleased as a peach. Frag he didn’t even know what that meant, but you’d looked it! You leaned back against his chassis during the first film, acting completely normal. It had taken a little while for his cooling fans to slow, but he got there the more you made easy conversation about what was going on on screen. He relaxed, trying not to think too hard about having the prettiest dang human he’d ever met lounging on him in a way that felt almost intimate.

Surely it couldn’t be intimate. Obviously you trusted him, but friends could do this too, right? Relax in each other’s hold, feeling like the most natural thing in the world? Primus you were warm and he didn’t know what to do with his hands. Halfway through the second film, you quieted down. Letting him find you no longer watching, but nodded off instead. Leaning into him, one hand loosely pressed to his armor.

For once in his life, Swerve couldn’t speak. 

The lights in his habsuite were dim, to accommodate the screen, and your skin glowed against the flicker of lights that danced across it. Expression unguarded in a way that nearly made him ex-vent embarrassingly loud. Of all the things you could have done with your night, you’d wanted to spend it with him. Just him. He--

This couldn’t be-- You couldn’t like him… could you? No, that would be stupid, no one liked him, not like that. Barely anyone liked him at all. And you were  _ you _ . Brilliant, beautiful, funny, everything he liked wrapped up in one organic life form. Which meant there was no possible way you liked him, too. Swerve wasn’t lucky like that, he wasn’t exactly the most dashing mech on the ship--

“Swerve?”

His joints tensed, quashing a startled jump before it started, body instinctively stopping itself from jostling you. He blinked his optics a few times, realizing that it was dark in the room now, film having ended. Your face was lit softly under the glow of his visor, eyes bleary as you looked up at him.

He finally found his voice again, clearing his intake. “Y-yeah, I mean, yuh-yes?” He wanted to hit himself. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“It’s okay,” you murmured, sounding soft as you simply curled more into him, content to go back to sleep. No cute apology for falling asleep before you finally leave his lap empty and cold again. Swerve didn’t get it, things like this just didn’t happen to him. The part of his brain that had seen more than its fair share of human films was screaming at him, telling him you liked him. This meant you liked him! But he wasn’t human; he was a robot three times your size. Not even one of the good-looking ones you were constantly surrounded by. He was bulky and dull. Humans liked  _ nice _ things. There was just no way. “I can hear your processor catching on fire.”

“What?”

Your laugh was soft, too, unguarded as you cracked your eyes open again. Reaching up, you placed a warm hand against his autobot insignia. 

“What’s on your mind?”

He couldn’t help but smile back, spark throbbing in a way that felt bittersweet. He didn’t want to worry you over him.

“Nothing, I was just thinking about uh-,” he looked to the screen and suddenly couldn’t even remember what you’d been watching. He looked back down to you, still waiting patiently. You hadn’t asked him to turn the lights on or anything, happy to sit in the dark, in his lap, with him.

“Is this a date?”

He felt cords in his chassis tighten, energon going cold in his lines. Why. Why did he just ask that? Why did he always do this to himself? This entire night was like a dream come true for him and he couldn’t even shut off his processor to simply enjoy it before it was over and now it was over. This wasn’t a date, you were going to laugh--no. Not laugh, you weren’t cruel, but he just made this so awkward! You were sitting up to leave-- no… 

You were standing, balancing on the cushion, eyes bright in the dark.

“...Is that okay?”

You sounded nervous, but hopeful. As if  _ you _ were afraid of  _ his _ rejection, and Swerve… 

Swerve couldn’t speak again. Disbelief surging through his lines. He could only laugh, in a short, bubbling burst that crackled with static at the end. But you weren’t joking.

...You weren’t joking.

Your face was honest, open, and so unbelievably beautiful. Before he could question the motion, he was letting himself react. You let him, too.

Small as they were, your lips were the softest thing he’d ever felt, and they kissed him back. Sweet and lingering. Heaven in a single touch. You even smiled into it. His spark thrummed inside of him, he could fragging sing! Hands raising to cup around you gently.

You laughed at the grin stretching across his face. “Hey say something.”

“Oh! Ah, thanks, I mean--” You laughed like a bell again and Swerve felt like he was melting into frameless protoform. “Thanks,” he said again, clearly smitten already.

“You don’t have to thank me.” You looked just as pleased, small hands coming to rest against his grills. “A second date would be nice, though. You owe me that much, kissing without asking.”

Oh oops, but you gave him no chance to apologize, moving in to kiss him again. And again.

“Is that date three and four?”

“You bet your blaster it is.”


	3. Rung/autobot reader SFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rondarozas: Ah! I love your writing style!  
> May I ask for a bot!reader/Rung oneshot? The Lost Light crew is having a party at Swerve's: everyone's having fun except for a few introverted bots including Rung. And the reader asks Rung if they can have this dance. Any song, any type of dance. I just want something cute...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes you may! And thanks so much for leaving my first ever transformers request! 💙 enjoy!
> 
> -seamo

You could barely keep your optics off of him, even in the dark of the room. Swerve's was hopping moreso than usual; tables moved around to accommodate dancers, lights and music replacing the usual dull roar of mixed conversations. With a few glasses of high grade in your system, you couldn't clearly remember  _ what  _ you guys were celebrating. Just that everyone was dancing like it was their last cycle. 

Okay not everyone.

Not the line of party poopers against the wall. They weren't getting up anytime soon, regardless of how much they were drinking.

Rung was among them, but he looked less grumpy than the others. In fact, he looked kinda happy. Watching everyone have fun with the cutest little smile on his face, tapping a beat against his folded leg. Maybe he wanted to dance? 

_ Maybe you're being too hopeful _ , you scolded yourself silently, turning back to your own drink. If he wanted to dance, he'd be dancing. Unless he was waiting to be asked…

"Watch your grip!"

Swerve had to yell to be heard, but he popped your bubble of spiraling insecurities doing so. You straightened upon your bar stool, following his line of sight to how tightly you were squeezing the glass in your servo. 

"Whoops!" You dropped it immediately, motions a little sloppy thanks to your budding overcharge. "Sorry."

Swerve waved your apology away, his attention already being vied for by empty glasses being shook in his direction. You looked down to the remaining bright green in your cup.

_ "Why can it be so hard to cross a small distance?" _

Your own question ehoed in your processor. For months you'd been meeting with Rung professionally. It was one of the first things you'd asked him, before you realized that he was supposed to be the one asking you questions.  _ Anxiety _ he'd called it. You were working on it with his guidance, but it was hard to take steps on your own, especially given the circumstances.

Circumstances being how big of a crush you had on the slight-framed mech. Someone full of kindness and optimism that made your spark  _ sing _ . A dance couldn't hurt, right? Would he even allow it?

Turns out that four glasses of high-grade were enough to give your pedes sentience because when the frag did you get out of your seat??

He looked surprised to see you approach him, but not unhappy. Giving you a smile that was somehow even warmer than usual.

"H-hey…"

Rung tilted his head, clearly unable to hear you over the instrumentals, so you leaned in closer and so did he. You tried very hard not to look at or think about the line of mechs not dancing, who were now all watching you likely make an aft of yourself. No, you looked only at him, how the light danced on his plating in a rainbow of color. How patient his expression was.

"...Dance with me?"

There was a pause like he couldn't believe he was actually being asked, before his expression lit up.

"I'd love to!" He said as he stood, bringing himself even closer to you. Overcharged energon surged through your lines and thankfully the music muted the sound of your cooling fans whirring.

He'd said yes. Not only that, but he was holding your servo now, tugging you to the edge of the throng of dancing mechs. 

More than willing, you followed him.


	4. Heatwave/human reader SFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robutttsss: Heylo, I’ve read both of your writings, and they are so very very good! Everyone is so in character and it all flows smoothly. If you wouldn’t mind, could you have a one-shot where Heatwave and a very shy human reader are cuddling experimentally( Heatwave is curious of human interaction) and it leads to gentle kissing and maybe nsfw? You can keep it sfw if it’s more comfy for you!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is VAGUELY what you asked for. No regrets.

It wasn't often that the firehouse was just empty like this. No emergencies called everyone away, the family just happened to be out. Heatwave didn't really care, it was nice to get some quiet once in a while. As much as he begrudgingly loved the family they'd found in Griffin Rock, even family could be irritating after so long living together. Especially when he was trying to do this.

  
Whatever this was.

  
Cody insisted it was a date. Blades counter-pointed that humans typically went out for dates. Dani said that wasn't necessarily true, that humans enjoyed romantic evenings in just as much. When Boulder heard the word romance and came ambling over to start waxing poetic about seasons of love, Heatwave took his exit.

Non-chalantly, completely cool and not at all anxious about the impending… encounter. Not outwardly. Kade obviously saw right through him, but surprisingly decided against imparting his own "wisdom" on the subject of human dating rituals. Just gave him a pat, grabbed his keys, and left to hit the gym.

  
In the bunker, Chase went through a few diagnostic issues they'd been having with the ship's command console. All easily fixed, but worth noting. He said nothing in regards to the way Heatwave was attempting to polish his paint job while he listened. Then he, too, left.

  
One by one, the Burns family, human and bot alike, all left the firehouse to attend to "personal errands". Every one of them wearing a knowing smile as they said goodbye.

  
Heatwave wanted to feel indignant about it, but he didn't have time to. You were gonna arrive any minute.

It wasn't a date, Heatwave kept saying to himself. He wasn't trying to court a human. Even if he did find said human to be both competent and interesting to talk to.

  
You'd only been living in Griffin Rock for around six months, hired on by the Doc for your expertise in advanced coding. You really didn't look or act like a scientist, but your level of intelligence was clear in your work. Doc kept saying you were the best lab tech he'd ever had.

  
Heatwave didn't doubt it. He'd let you interact with their command console once and you floored him with how easily you figured things out, even when the codes and files were written in ancient cybertronian glyphs. You gave him a playful wink and shrugged, claiming that the "code signatures" followed a similar pattern to what you used personally. He never uttered a word of complaint against working with you after that.

  
This definitely wasn't a work situation though. This was…

  
"Hey."

  
Heatwave wasn't really done polishing himself when you arrived, because he'd also been setting up the bunker's rec area for your visit. But you were emerging from the lift far sooner than he'd been expecting and he hurried to shove the polishing cloth out of sight..

  
"Hey," he called back, casual. Totally casual, not nervous at all. "You're early."

  
"I was excited." Your answer came so smoothly, that Heatwave almost tripped over the couch on his way to meet you across the bunker. You didn't seem to notice his momentary fluster though, too busy digging through your overnight bag as you walked. Wait, why an overnight bag?

  
The words _me too_ , remained caught in his intake.

  
"Alright, it took me all night, but I managed to compile a selection of war movies that meet three criteria I put down for this. Engaging filmography, historical accuracy, and minimal gore. It wasn't easy, but." Finally you fished a flash drive out of the bag, grinning in triumph. "I'm 'bouta knock the socks right offa this movie night."

  
"...You didn't need to waste your recharge cycle on something like that."

  
You were laughing before he was even finished, welcoming yourself into the rec area and giving his tire a fond pat as you passed.

  
"Dude, not literally."

  
"Oh, of course."

-

It was true Heatwave was interested in the films you selected, and you'd clearly put a lot of consideration into the line-up. Even arranging them chronologically on the timeline of history for your people. He was also just finding it difficult to pay attention solely to the films.

  
Turns out the overnight bag carried a blanket and snacks. Dani had thought to leave out refreshments for you, too. So you'd made yourself a nest on the large couch, directly next to Heatwave. It wasn't his fault you reminded him of the sweet little songbird Blades had found nesting on the firehouse roof last summer.

Small and precious. Er, uh, small and, uh- something.

  
The plates of his face felt warm, embarrassed by his own fragging thoughts. But really, what was new. This wasn't an isolated experience, it was happening every time you came around. Visits that were increasing in frequency since just about everyone in the Burns family seemed to enjoy having you over.

  
(They'd long since noticed Heatwave's interest in you.)

  
There was something about you he just found… attractive. For a human. Somewhere between your quick wit and oddball nature was an honest, genuine person. Despite the differences in your species, cultures, and histories, Heatwave felt compellingly drawn to you.

  
His rare moment of introspection was interrupted when the first film ended and you left to use the restroom. To show himself as a true gentlemech, Heatwave queued the next film and brought the bottle of pink, fizzy liquid over to the coffee table so you could refresh your drink. Huh, it almost looked like a pale energon. He'd have to ask Cody what Moscato meant later.

  
"On to the next!" You proclaimed, choosing to roll over the back of the couch to reclaim your seat instead of just, y'know, sitting down. "Oh, thanks!" You grinned as you refueled and Heatwave smiled back, tucking away the fact that you seemed to really enjoy Moscato for future reference. Not that he was keeping track of your favorite things or anything.

  
(He was.)

  
He also noticed you staring at him from over the rim of your glass.

  
"What?"

  
You swallowed a large gulp.

  
"Were you this shiny earlier?"

  
His faceplates felt warm again, but he played it cool.

  
"Uh, yeah?"

  
"Nice! Did Kade get you a buff job?" You hopped up in your seat to get a better look and he was suddenly self-concious of all the smaller nooks he'd had neither the time nor tools to properly reach. "Pretty," you said simply, admiring his chassis. Oh frag you were close. "You smell kinda nice, too. Like wax."

  
He'd used a little, no shame in that, he was a grown mech.

  
"Thanks," he said, trying (and failing) to keep the pride from his voice. "You, uh, you look nice tonight, too." And you did. You always looked nice to him. Though you laughed like you might've thought he was joking. "I mean that."

  
You didn't respond, smile softening at the edges before you suddenly dove for your bag, excitement in your eyes.

  
"I almost forgot! Okay so, I maybe borrowed some energon off of Boulder a few weeks ago.

Blades was talking about how you guys consumed it in more than just liquid form back home. Now, I'm no chemist, I'll admit to that, but Doc gave me a hand and, ta-da."

  
You peeled the lid off of a biohazard container, revealing a set of around a dozen pink squares.

You let him stare in surprise for a moment. "If they're disgusting, you have to tell me. I'll never get it right if I don't know it's wrong."

  
Energon candy. You made energon candy, or attempted to. The color shade was off, but Heatwave didn't comment on that.

  
"Wanna be my guinea pig?" You asked after another beat of him just staring, intake ajar.

  
Eyes bright, you watched as he popped one into his mouth without further hesitation. He didn't even care what it might taste like, you went out of your way to craft something to remind him of home.

  
"Well?"

  
"...A little bland-"

  
"Damn-"

  
"But a little sweet, too."

  
You tilted your head. "Sweet like 'that was a nice solo experience' or sweet like 'please sir, can I have some more'?"

  
He grunted a short laugh, carefully taking another to chew on. "Still bland."

  
You weren't insulted, just determined to do better next time. It helped that Heatwave slowly ate the whole box over the course of the next film. So they couldn't have been disgusting.

  
He seemed almost surprised when he reached down to find the box empty, glancing down at it with no small measure of disappointment.

Though it was swiftly wiped away when he caught you staring at him instead of the building climax on-screen.

  
Your mostly empty glass was resting against your lips thoughtfully as your gaze sifted slowly over the bulk of his chassis, like the movie wasn't even on.

  
"Bored?"

  
You jumped lightly, eyes snapping up to meet the ones watching you in amusement as you flushed a shade of pink prettier than any energon candy could be.

  
"No, I've seen this film before, I was simply… thinking."

  
"About what?"

  
"Honest answer?"

  
Heatwave paused the film, turning in his seat to face you better and silently marveling at how you seemed able to smile with your eyes alone.

  
Only now did you seem to grow a hint of shyness in your demeanor, but it hardly wavered your confidence.

  
"...You."

  
Heatwave almost snorted. "You were staring at me, so I already figured that part out."

  
Another smile pulled your lips.

  
"You stare at me, too, so. All's fair in love and war."

  
One of your small, warm hands tentatively brushed the top of his servo, fingertips barely grazing over the metal. Even the cool water in his tanks didn't stop him from heating up, fans threatening to click on with an audible whirr if he wasn't careful.

  
"You noticed?"

  
"I was hoping," you admitted with a slight shrug. "Although, between your visor and my self-doubt, I didn't want to be too hopeful. ...Okay, falsehood, my hopes are flying higher than Blades."

  
Heatwave did snort at that. "So not too high."

  
He really enjoyed getting you to laugh.

  
"High enough. What about you?"

  
It suddenly felt like his intake was perhaps too dry, engine too rumbly. You were looking at him with so much open emotion on your precious, fleshy face and who was he kidding.

  
When he reached for you, it was slow, intent to lift you clear. He helped you stand on his lap, just barely tall enough to reach his shoulders. When he leaned in to close the distance, you gladly tilted your face up to meet him.


	5. At The Spark prt 1 - Swerve/seeker reader NSFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> not a request, just some self-indulgent smut with my favorite minibot in a made-up timline that doesn't follow any canon in any way. I might actually post a few of these snippets for this specific au, but am not likely to commit to an actual plot.
> 
> Please enjoy.

He was like a bulkhead before you, his square frame boxing you into the feasibly small crevice you'd managed to spot before the last of this planet's dying sons settled beyond the horizon. It embraced a sweeping cold that had turned your fingertips and thrusters numb, and that was saying nothing of your wings. Now folded down against the line of your spinal struts in a manner your creator would have  _ screeched _ about.

But such things were long in the past.

Now it was just you and him. And the warm air he breezed through his vents onto your small space. Silently, you begged Primus to keep him hidden from unwanted attention. As he kept you hidden from the icy wind.

"You doin' okay?"

Swerve's visor lit your face in soft blue, his derma twisted in concern. You were being especially quiet, and you internally scolded yourself for it.

"Yeah…" Your voice box was just a bit scratchy from recent strain, but you were trying not to worry about it. This planet wasn't accustomed to cybertronian travellers, which meant no one to fix it. It wasn't a priority. "I'm just thinking."

Swerve knew what you were thinking, you really didn't need to explain. Between the pair of you,  _ you _ were the fighter. Not a war frame, per se, but you knew how to use your sleeker aerodynamics for more than just a pretty show. Since the day you two found each other, on that backwater planet so many neutrals had fled to in seeking asylum, you watched over him. You protected him. And you'd become inseparable because of it. But right now?

"You're exposed…"

Swerve sighed, your designation on his lips as he did, but you insisted.

"You're  _ clearly _ exposed. What if something comes and snatches you away from me while I'm in recharge?"

"We've both scanned this planet. It's empty; just us, remember?"

Swerve noticed a shiver rattle your joints and tried to pull your frame a little closer to his. His engines were smaller than yours, but worked up a fair amount of heat. He angled which ones he could to blow directly over you. Servos found their way to the joints where your wings met your shoulder plates. Thick digits were practiced as they began massaging the stiff joints, trying to work heat back through your lines.

"And you, sweetspark, aren't flying anywhere in this cold. Your joints will ice over before you could breach the winds."

" _ You're _ gonna ice over--" You tried to insist, the pulse of your spark thrumming a little quicker in your distress. Bond protocols kept pinging little reminders that it was your job to  _ protect him _ . 

"My armor is thicker than yours and we both know it." As always, Swerve's voice sliced through your spiralling anxiety; cutting a clear path through it and allowing you to find your way back to the crack in a mountain that your conjunx had managed to shove you into. He smiled at you, visor dimming momentarily in a wink. His digits grazed so gently against the derma of your cheek. "Besides, I think we also both know you could help keep me a little warmer, if you wanted to."

It was so casual, his smile so relaxed like he wasn't concerned with unknown possible dangers. Why would he be? He was with you.

A soft chuckle bubbled out of you, only furthering the brightness of his grin. Then your processor pinged with a thought. A new suggestion, internals having already scanned the terrain around you, breaking down an image of their minerals. You shifted with some difficulty, kneeing Swerve once in the thigh to a grunt of surprise.

You apologized in a mumble, finally getting one of your thrusters up to waist level and pressing it to the stone.

"Slag, that's hot."

Swerve' visor brightened the crevice as he watched you contort yourself with great interest. You snorted.

"This is not a display of flexibility for your enjoyment."

"Call it whatever you want, it's hot. You remember that safe house on Vaxor Three?"

You laughed again, more freely. How could you forget? You've never let  _ anyone _ tie you up like that, expose you down to the barest parts of yourself. Only him, only then. 

"Think I can get you into some tighter angles here?" His servos were certainly palming at your frame like he was ready to try, sparking tingles to race under your armor. 

"And do what with me? You're wedged in tighter than I am, darling."

You gently dissuaded his wandering, leaning in to grant him a single kiss.

"I'm working right now."

With that, you opened a measure channel in your fuel lines and ignited your thruster at its lowest setting. It took several moments to heat the rock surrounding you to a comfortable temperature that your wings shivered for. Swerve groaned for an entirely different reason, sagging in relief.

"Hot…"

You kissed him again with a smile, which he was happy to meet. And you didn't brush him away this time when servos found your waist, urging you tighter against him.

His servos felt so big to you. Sure, he was small, but he was stocky. Solid and strong. You loved being held by him. Made to feel small by him.

A soft whimper into the kiss was all the permission Swerve was waiting for. He was careful with his glossa as he easily broke the seam of your lips. The taste of your oral lubricants mixing together, the sensation of his glossa sliding languidly over your own, it was quickly becoming a heady cocktail of sensornet pinging. In the rush of stimulus, your interface array came online without prompting. Your thruster sputtered out before you used up too much fuel. Your focus was redirecting and the crevice was warm enough.

Swerve must have felt your panel warming against his knees, because bold servos dragged down from your lower chassis. Digits digging into the seams around your panel so suddenly that you jump. Swerve's chuckling muffing your trill of surprise.

The sound only further serves to rile you up, and you're nanokliks from letting your panel pop right open when he just as suddenly drags his touch back up over your chassis. Palming at your cockpit as he rests his derma against your audial.

"I think you're right about me not moving, but that doesn't mean  _ you _ can't."

One servo drifts over a turbine, giving it a lazy flick that has the air in your vents stalling. The other is trailing down, tracing biolights and seams before coming to cover your array. You open your panel without question, all previous worries and anxieties effectively blown by the wind and the touch of your lover.

"Swerve," you breathe, as two digits slowly trace the already-wet petals of your valve. When they grew bolder, both sunk easily into your tight valve channel, eagerly welcomed into your heat. Swerve shuddered at the strength of how badly he wished he could sink his spike into you instead. But he knew other things were just as good. 

The servo on your turbine got a little more familiar, touching you in ways only a lover could. It almost distracted you from the digits retracting from your valve and trailing imploring over your spike housing. Swerve began murmuring dirty little things to you. How wet you were making him, how badly he wanted to warm up on your spike. Your own lubricant coated his digits as you pressurized directly into his waiting palm.

Swerve's hands felt big to you, until he was fisting your spike. Then you watched in perverse delight as he struggled to fit you in the clean ring of his digits while stroking you to full stiffness. You weren't even very big, could even be considered slim, if not lengthy. But he made you feel it.

Not wanting to be out-done, the tips of your own sharp claws dragged their way to the minibot's grills and scraped along the inner-edges. His hips jumped closer to you with a groan and you took pity on your poor lover.

His panel retracted before you even touched it. Spike bobbing up towards his abdomen and poking your chassis. You ghosted a cruel digit down it's side, feeling the spark of charge rush to connect at the contact. Swerve whined, but bit his derma. He knew complaining would only make you take him slower. Besides, his spike wasn't your goal.

The white mesh of his valve was supple under your wandering touch, and the grip of the servo on your turbine was suddenly more grounding than groping. You parted gentle lips and peeked down, barely able to catch sight of the ring of red biolights burning in their desire to be stretched. Your spike pulsed in Swerve's palm.

It was an odd angle to work with. You had to scoot up, grimacing at the grit sliding across your plating. Before his face was out of kissing reach, you connected indulgently again, drinking in his gasp when you slid a thin digit into his valve channel. He couldn't spread his legs very wide, but tried angling his hips to be more accessible to you. Even despite the careful fingering, he was going to be tight.

This time your spike pulsed so hard it jumped.

"Are you comfortable?" You asked in a heated whisper, withdrawing your digits and raising them to lick clean. Savoring his taste on your glossa.

Swerve had to reset his vocalizer as he nodded. He still had a servo on your spike, dutifully servicing you, occasionally dipping to roll his thumb over your anterior node. You let yourself revel in his touch a moment, still wondering  _ how _ you'd let him convince you to spike him in the wilds of a barren planet.

You felt hot breaths of intake against your cockpit and wished you could see his face as he guided your spike to grind against him. Warm mesh kissed your length and drew a low groan out of you. Gladly, you moved into it, squishing his lubricant around and letting dribbles of pre-fluid drown his anterior node. It was wet and messy, and you both loved it.

His servo, still touching your spike, pushed it against him at a different angle. There was resistance for only a breath of a moment before the rim of his valve relaxed, and you pushed into the hot clutch of your mate's valve. Deliciously bumpy, wet, silicone-coated calipers spread for your spike, gripping you as tightly as predicted. It nearly knocked your possessor clean.

He squirmed as you entered him slowly, still biting his lip. Clenching around you felt like heaven, but didn't convince you to move any quicker. He could really only moan your designation weakly, not at all ashamed to beg for the fragging he wanted. Servos were pawing at your wings again.

You were in control, though. Pushing a third of your spike into him, then withdrawing slowly. Pushing halfway in, and easing back out. Each time, your spike came away more slick than the last. Until Swerve was dripping lubricant down his hip joints. 

His begging was broken by sobs of frustration and you smiled. You pushed into his valve again, lips parting easily around you, and you didn't stop. Swerve's body jumped when it realized, your spike pushing further than anticipated and bumping deep nodes that knocked coherent speech right out of him. You didn't stop until he sat as deep as you could take him at this angle. He needed the moment to adjust, you could tell. 

Gently, you caressed heated cheeks you couldn't see, kissing the top of his hood while you cooed how proud you were he was taking all of you. After a few kliks, he turned his helm to kiss your digits and pat your spinal struts.

"I'm good."

"You're certain?"

You felt flat denta on the tip of your turbine, tight valve flexing around you, and your fans somehow kicked up another setting.

Grinding into your lover didn't last as you quickly lengthened your thrusting, pleasure driving your rhythm. The staccato burst of moaning against your glass sounded like anything but a complaint. Swerve squeezed his legs together, tightening his channel around you and earning a rougher thrust as reward.

He also couldn't help speaking again, almost babbling about how good you felt inside of him. How big you felt, reaching him so deeply. He wished he could push you onto your back and watch your beautiful wings spread out under him while he rode your spike. Wanted you to frag him like a plaything, like a personal pleasure drone.

You found his knee joint in the dark and didn't think twice about pulling his leg to rest over your hip joint. It sharply changed the angle you entered him in and Swerve nearly  _ wailed _ as you pushed that last inch in, shoving the tip of your spike against his ceiling node.

There was a cold draft on your legs now, but it was ignored in favor bracing your thrusters against broken stone for leverage as you began pounding into your lover's supple heat. He took it beautifully, visor brightening and dimming, intake hanging open, armor clanking together in your rougher rhythm. Your tip kissed his ceiling node on every meeting and pushed broken moans of your designation from his vocalizer, quickly fritzing.

The charge of overload was passing between your frames. Heightening with every completed current cycle. Neither of you could last. You tried to lean back, wanting to see him as he as the charge between you snapped too high. Swerve overloaded around your spike with a undone whine, calipers clenching and fluttering with shocks of charge, the light of his visor burning out completely. You only held out for three more, solid thrusts, holding deep as your own overload ripped through your sensornet.

He made no complaint when you didn't pull out, savoring the warmth of fresh transfluid seeping between his nodes and calipers. It was such a deeply intimate feeling, and he shuddered as another, much gentler overload washed through his frame. Pulling a hoarse groan from you.

For a few moments, neither of you moved. Your sparks thrummed on a matching pulse rhythm, feeling connected, even with both chambers still closed.

You finally shifted, careful as you removed yourself, unplugging the small flood of fluids that then soaked into his seams. It was such a mixture of sensations. The heated stone, your heated frame, his pulsing valve, the biting winds at his back.

Swerve jumped, but didn't object when your sharp digits toyed with his abused mesh. He knew your claws to only be gentle. And they were, slipping back inside of him to massage transfluid into sensitive nodes in a way that had him shivering from his hood to his pedes. You scooted back down, too impatient about kissing him again to even close your array. 

He tolerated your fingering far longer than you expected, considering the unanticipated intensity of the pounding he just took. You knew he had to be overly-sensitive, but he sighed cutely when you dared to grind your palm against his outer node. Even laved his glossa against yours more insistently. He rolled his hips against your servo and your spent spike gave an interested twitch.

His valve was heating up again around your digits, cycling down around them in want of something thicker. You weren't sure how, but the despotism his frame seemed to have for your touch reduced your refractory period to an absolute zero. Your array came online again, hot and willing to please your mate.

This time, Swerve was more selfish. He tugged at your shoulder vents, not wanting to sacrifice the wet pleasure of your intake melding to his this time. And you couldn't say no to him. Not when he was begging for your spike again with insistent whimpers, digits clumsier than yours when he stroked you. You had to hold your wings tighter against your back, bowing your spine forward, certain gears clicking at the slight strain. All of it worth it to feel the tip of your spike catch on the rim of the minibot's valve as you spread the lips apart.

"Gently," he breathed over your derma. You were happy to accommodate. No teasing this time. You slid all the way in, one easy slide. He was still soaked inside, keeping every shallow thrust smooth. The build up was slower, less heated than the first. Swerve was pliant, but demanding; urging you with greedy servos to take him at exactly the pace he wanted. He wanted your derma on his own, or in the cabling of his neck, which made you bend further, straining in the tight space. Yet you made no complaints. You sucked on his cables, tugging them between your denta as you continued rolling your hips into his without breaking pace. 

The air in his vents caught on his third overload, his keen soft and undone, adding to the sweet, saline scent of his discharge. As your hips slowed, though, a servo quickly grabbed your aft.

"Don't stop," he barely managed to whisper. You raised your face from his neck to find your mate looking absolutely wrecked under the dim light of your optics. Wrecked and wanting  _ more _ . 

Your spike pulsed inside his silky heat and you wondered just many overloads you could wring out of him before he passed out.


	6. At The Spark pt. 2 - Swerve/seeker reader SFW mostly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> still just riding this lil au. These two are lucky they're both idiot-sexual bc...

Earth was… dirty. That was your first thoughts about it, if asked. Though it was really no more dirty than other rocks you'd crash-landed on together. Native inhabitants were organic and upsettingly small. More than once has Ratchet had to administer a sedative pulse through your system to calm you down over nightmares. Fitful fears of finding squishy flesh stuck in your thrusters one day. The thought horrified you for many reasons. 

Worst of all, the damn things were  _ everywhere _ . Even the  _ Ark _ was infested daily and you did everything you could to stay clear of them.

Swerve took to Earth rather differently, however. You didn't understand the cultural appeal, apparently, because for him, it was like a utopia. His immediate attachment to human media made him equally enthusiastic about human  _ presence.  _ For reasons you couldn't fathom, he adored the appallingly delicate "kids" who invaded his walking space. Then again, he was closer to their size than you were. They were likely easier to track because of it.

The Earth sparklings took to Swerve, too. Everyone on the  _ Ark _ did. He was charismatic and could carry a conversation whether you wanted him to or not. He also knew how to listen, absorbing everything about human culture he could download. 

There was one thing you certainly couldn't fault this Earth for, and that was how much it was lifting your conjunx's spark. 

"I'm just saying, this place is pretty cool."

"I'm not disagreeing with you."

Swerve could tell you also weren't  _ agreeing _ with him.

"I mean, I know it's no Cybertron, but the culture of storytelling here is impressive."

He nudged you in the side as you both sat upon the edge of the canyon mesa, watching this planet's small, young sun set over the horizon. "I think you'd really like some of it if you gave it a chance."

You hardly felt inclined to go looking for yourself, though. Which Swerve had long since anticipated. He pulled a borrowed data pad out of his subspace, grinning at you as orange and pink light reflected on the screen.

"I also may have taken the liberty to compile a playlist of human films for us to watch together."

It startled a laugh out of you.

"Right now?"

"Nah." Swerve tossed the pad back into his pocket. "We can watch those in berth, later. Right now, I wanna eat your valve."

You laughed again, despite knowing he was serious. The  _ Ark _ offered shelter, not privacy, and it would be a lie to claim you didn't crave his intimacy.

Swerve leaned against the rock formations in an overly-seductive way, showing off the strong, square shape of his frame. Jutting his hips out just so. He already knew you liked what you saw, but felt no shame in reminding you why. Even going as far as to shoot you a flirty wink of his visor. The dirty tease.

Well two could play at that game.

You met his smug look with a smirk of your own, fluttering your wings in inviting little flicks as you turned at the hip and brought attention to the curves of your armor. You knew you had his interest when you raised a thruster heel, crossing one leg over the other, and his helm followed the entire movement. So you leaned back on your elbow joints, the colorful sky now reflecting in the glass of your cockpit as you silently beckoned your lover closer.

Earth was dirty, but also kinda pretty. The bleeding sky fading into the velvet of night was a charming backdrop to the way your sparkmate fragged you on that mesa. Broke you down to desperate cries of his designation. It was even worth having your wings drug through the dusty sand. 


	7. At The Spark prt.3 - Swerve/seeker!reader SFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> still not necessarily following any sort of canon.

Despite your valiant attempts at avoiding direct social interactions with the _humans_ , it became a rather commonplace occurrence. You, sitting neatly on the floor between Swerve's spread knees, thrusters tucked up under you and turned slightly so your wings could rest over the top of his thigh without obscuring his view of the screen as he sat on an old crate of some kind. 

Him and the autobot Bumblebee seemed to greatly enjoy gathering with the children to engage in virtual sports. As frequently as possible. You never participated but gladly sat through it for no other reason than to offer your support. Swerve wasn't necessarily… good, at them. His aim was an affront to all existing weaponry and weapon simulators. But you loved how hard he still tried.

This day found you in much the same position. Bumblebee was playing a form of racing simulator with the second tallest of the children. Swerve wanted to watch and you naturally joined him.

The morning had been long, the scouting flight you'd taken equally so. So your posture was just a tad more slouched than usual. Swerve kept a servo between your wing joints, massaging the sore struts and taut springs. It was divine, you wanted to _melt_ into his lap.

Nearest you sat the smallest of the human children. Perched on a chair with a laptop computer that looked too big for him, typing away. You didn't pay him any mind as you slowly sunk more into Swerve's lap, subtly flaring the armor plating around the joints so his thicker digits could reach a little further. Swerve took his optics from the screen to smile down at you. You returned the smile more softly, your own digits tracing glyphs against his leg. A teasing little comment about the _other_ places you wished him to stick his digits--

Out of the corner of your optic, you see that the small child had noticed your tracing and you stopped immediately. The movement raised the child's attention to find you looking at him pointedly. You expected him to look away and mind his own business again, but you weren't so lucky.

"Sorry," he said, adjusting the frames on his face, voice chipper. You were reluctant to reply, not wishing to engage in _small talk_. But, nonetheless…

"Quite alright."

It was so rare for you to speak directly to any of them that the child looked surprised and delighted. Then kindly concerned, your designation spilling from his little, human mouth.

"You don't seem yourself today."

Swerve, wonderful as always, answered for you.

"We had an early start, and a long way to go. We're just tired, kiddo."

As tired as your wings were, you were sure Swerve was just as sore. If not more. He'd been the one hauling the cargo after all. You simply kept watch from the sky. Primus, how you wished to take him back to the barracks. Rub his tires until he fell into a light recharge.

Fondness bloomed in the back of your processor, in that little space you shared with him. And you realized he must have felt what you were thinking. His helm tilting towards you, smile wide and adoring.

"Hey, Swerve?" The small one started again, oblivious to your silent communication. "I've actually been hoping to ask you two a few questions. If you don't mind?"

He looked mostly at you as he said it, as if he fully expected you to say no. You were never _mean_ to the children. Just… antisocial. Swerve gently prodded the back of your processor with his. A reminder that he was always happy to take the lead of conversation. Digits gave the edge of your wing a gentle tweak as he turned his attention to the child.

"Questions like what?"

Lighting up again, the small one turned more fully in his seat to face you.

"I was talking to Bumblebee the other day about you guys. Nothing bad! I was asking him things about Cybertron, and cultural customs from before the war. He mentioned something about you guys."

Ah, here it was. You were honestly expecting this eventually. The Prime's team treated each other like a family unit, but there were no mates among them. The relationship between Swerve and yourself was clearly different. 

Your wings perked up in a subtle preen.

"Amica Endura?"

And immediately froze stiff.

"Beg pardon?" 

The child looked to you, both curious and confused. "A..mica endura? Am I saying it right?"

You didn't deign to disguise the intensely annoyed flick of your wings. Just as Swerve couldn't hide how his engines stalled. A sound that drew the attention of most mech and humans in the vicinity. 

You straightened your posture, feeling Swerve's servo fall limply from your wings to his lap as he was unable to respond. So you gladly took it upon yourself for once.

"Amica Endura is a bond born of platonic love. You bare your sparks to each other and declare the value each other has brought into your lives. That is the extent of my knowledge on the topic as I have never had one. _However,_ " you raised your vocalizer and you rose from your seat, making certain you were heard by everyone and staring into each of their faces in turn. "Swerve is my _Conjunx Endura_ , should you ever have any questions about _that_."

"Conjunx Endura?" The child repeated, oblivious to the subtle threat in your EM field. The mechs of the room, however, read it loud and clear.

Bumblebee veered right out of his game, dropping to his knee joints next to Swerve and began beeping an apology immediately. It was very heartfelt. You felt inclined to forgive him. He was still so young.

Both children voiced their confusion in some way.

"What does that mean?" The small one was closing his laptop.

This wasn't his fault and your agitation held no reserve for him. Showing as much when you gracefully kneeled next to him once more, the other child now watching with interest from her seat on the couch. You kept your voice kind.

"Humans have bonds and ceremonies known as marriage, correct?"

The girl inhaled sharply. "You two are married!?"

"Cybertronians naturally live for a very long time. Millions upon millions of years. However, to bond with someone, for us, is more than a promise to spend our lives together. It is a very literal and deliberate merging of our sparks," you touched a servo just above your cockpit, "to bond together the very essence of our beings. A commitment that no bot takes lightly."

Swerve was quietly assuring Bumblebee that everything was okay, but you could still feel his desire to flee the situation. Get away from the poleaxed look of disbelief on the nearby medic's face.

"If you have any more questions, I will be happy to answer them at a later time. Like Swerve said, it was a long journey. We should get some rest."

Outwardly, you were very polite, excusing your sparkmate and yourself back to the barracks. You knew none of the Autobots likely meant to be hurtful in their assumptions of your relationship. Just as they couldn't know the thousands of years you'd spent having strange mecha of all kinds criticize your bond. A minibot and a _seeker_ ? Neutral grounders slagging Swerve for picking "decepticon-ilk"; while those unprejudiced to wings seem to draw the line at "cut-offs" and implored you to find a _real mech_. 

All of which was a decision never placed in their hands to begin with.

You refused to allow such judgements from your new… community.

"I'm fine-...I'm--" You gently bustled him along to your bunks in the back, picking him up despite flustered protests and nestling him into your collection of pillows on the bottom bunk you insisted on sharing. The protests spilling from your mate were half-hearted at best, though. And you planted yourself into his lap, wings folding out of the way of the bunk above as you nuzzle your face into Swerve's neck cables. 

Without words, you folded your EM field around his; a soft, gentle blanket of love eager to soothe his insecurities. A wave of warmth to serve as a reminder of how dearly you treasured him. 

He met you easily, arms wrapping around your frame to keep you close. 

Perhaps the _Ark_ didn't offer privacy in their bunking but you didn't care. Especially after the insult of them assuming your relationship was merely platonic. You had been in no-way shy about draping your frame over his every night in recharge, about tactile contact with one another. He regularly played with your wings, or laid an innocent servo against the glass of your cockpit. You had thought you were being quite obvious.

Clearly _not_.

"I don't understand…" You quietly groaned, dipping the tips of your claws into his grilles to ground yourself. He tightened his hold as a response. "Have I not made my claim on you clear??"

Despite himself, Swerve huffed a laugh.

"I feel very claimed."

Your wings tilted up with pride, a soft trill in your vocalizer as you parted your denta carefully against his cables. Swerve's whole frame shivered gently, helm tilting back just a bit more for you. Your spark thrummed within its chamber, aching to hold the light of his. But that was not something either of you wanted to do in a place where any mech could come along and see what was meant for your optics only.

You settled for biting a little dent into one of his cables, teasing a stall out of his engine. And another laugh.

"I think you stated your claim pretty clearly out there, just now. Haven't felt your field that prickly in vorns." Another trill into his neck, wiggling over his frame, melted away any remaining tension from his joints. He gave you a warm squeeze. "It was pretty adorable. Like, earth-kittens fighting over treats kind of cute. Cute with very real, very sharp claws."

"It was an affront--"

"Bee looked like he might even cry. Slag babe, you're scary hot. Scary _and_ hot. You're hot when you're being possessive."

Your wings tilted in a subtle preen. Until more of his words caught up with you.

"What did you call me?"

"Huh? Oh, babe?" His grin grew somehow wider. "I think it'd be fun to give each other culturally relevant pet names."

"And you've elected to call me an infant?"

"Ha! No! It's something between lovers. You're a total babe." He winked his visor, before it lit up excitedly. "Give me one, too! Uh, please? It'll be fun?"

It was hardly a fair argument, he knew you'd never say no to him. You ex-vented in fond exasperation, though.

A human pet name? You didn't think you knew any. How did humans say sweetspark again?

Swerve chuckled at your expression of consideration, tilting his helm down to kiss your finial. 

"You don't have to come up with one right now, you can give it some thought."

"Thank you."

"I'm gonna keep calling you babe, though."

"If you must."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next one will be something else I swear.


	8. Distraction - Starscream/seeker!reader sfw

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> robots are cool.  
> Starscream is hot.  
> He thinks he's a king,  
> But he really a thot.

Unfairly handsome. 

That's really what it came down to with him. Perfectly straight and symmetrical helm lines. Flares in all the right places and wings that commanded attention. There was never a time, outside of battle, that you couldn't see the world and Primus himself reflecting in sharp detail upon the glass of his canopy. 

Starscream kept his frame in peak fighting conditions, of course, but also never shied away from cosmetic upkeep as well. The result was glitch-inducing, apparently, because you struggled to look at any bot else when he was in the room. Like the light of a new sun, he kept drawing your optic. Glimmering, sharp.

Distracting.

" _ Back into formation!" _

You straightened with a jerk that nearly sent you into an unintended barrel roll. The Commander streaked by close enough to graze had you not corrected yourself, hissing a warning that you did not take lightly.

You could feel the EM fields of your trine mates, questioningly reaching for you. Farstar's had an air of smugness that declared you had, in fact, been obvious in your distraction.

You were careful to pay attention for the remainder of formations. Getting into the flow of it again, like usual. Letting movement-memory take over. Leading every unit was the constant voice of your commander, calling every drill and correction over the comms. There weren't as many this cycle.

Time spent traveling between planets always felt like a lull in the war. Cycles were spent mostly on drills and training, preparation for the next big move. The next fight. Yet you felt nothing of anticipation. You just kept flying. One day to the next, trying to stay alive and stay together. 

Docking Bay 01 opened slowly in the underbelly of the  _ Nemesis _ , allowing the return of each unit in an organized, neat fashion. Until heeled thrusters hit the floor and everyone started complaining.

Commander Starscream was still on the open channel, barking reminders about drills being suspended during the coming hyperjump. He was mostly ignored, like usual, only a few giving acknowledging waves. 

Starscream himself entered last, transforming into a smooth landing as the doors closed again under him. His trine was already walking away, too. He'd kept all of you out a bit late today.

"Captain! A word."

You paused mid-step, wings jerking up a little straighter. Your trine shared a look, before taking off quickly. Abandoning you. Like traitors.

_ Traitors _ .

You spin on your heel, standing at attention for your commander as he approached. The line of his optics was on the retreating air force, measuring his pace so that everyone was gone by the time he reached you across the hanger.

"Sir?"

" _ Sir? _ " He mocked lightly. "That's all you have to say after that humiliating display?"

Oh yikes, he was in a bad mood.

" _ Answer me _ , Captain."

You held your posture tighter, fighting the urge to cower back. Beautiful could also be scary. But Starscream wasn't looking for cowards.

"My deepest apologies, Commander. My processor became momentarily distracted--"

" _ One moment! _ Is all it takes, Captain." He raised a servo, using a digit to jab the seam of your armor where chestplates overlapped, finding smooth protoform underneath with quick precision. It took willpower you were uncertain you possessed not to flinch. His optics were fiercely bright and boring into yours. "One moment of distraction, one shot, ...one less seeker."

You nodded your understanding, stiff as you reset your vocalizer. He had come to a stop standing far too close to you. The distance far from professionally appropriate. But there was a tension in his shoulders, and in the way he was holding his wings, that prevented you from pointing it out.

He retracted his digit, handsome face twisting into something angry  _ and _ taunting.

"Now what, in the name of Primus, was so  _ distracting _ ? The vast emptiness of space??"

This felt like a precarious situation. You were very accustomed to his typical ranting. Always valid, just rude. But this was something else. His field was pulled in tight, but you were close enough to still feel the hum of discontent buzzing.

Lying would be a… bad idea. Probably. 

You kept your volume softer.

"No, sir. I was thinking about, uh, you." The last word came out laced with static. You reset again.

More yelling was what you expected. Not for the Commander to go completely silent. His optics were still trained on you relentlessly, digging for more answers than your glossa could give him. 

You weren’t sure what your face was saying, but a bit of that tension finally left him. His optics narrowed in something that seemed like understanding and you felt energon flush warmly through your lines. Wing tips trembling minutely before settling just as quick. He noticed, of course he noticed.

A perfectly handsome smirk stretched over his regretfully beautiful face. His wings relaxed into something cocky and confident. Spreading wide to show off their breadth. Air stalled in your vents, your own wings flicking in surprise.

He eased half a step closer, releasing the tight hold on his field. 

You wanted to offline on the spot when it slammed into you with  _ smug _ and  _ desire _ .

Ping reminders regarding seeker courting protocols started popping up in your processor.

"Captain." It was safe to say he was purring his words, letting his vocalizer drop to a register that was doing funny things to your spark. You had to peel your glossa away from your denta.

"Yes, Commander?"

"...How about we go back out."

"Sir?"

He shifted a shoulder, nodding back towards the bay door.

"Since you clearly need to be taught how to work under  _ distracting conditions." _

Your spark thrummed excitedly, unable to look away from his unfairly, handsomely, beautiful face.

A sky-blue servo extended towards you. Expectantly.

You took it.


	9. Mirror Sails - TFP Bumblebee/SGDecepticon!reader SFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AlexisD231: Can you do a Normal verse TFP Bumblebee/Shattered Glass Decepticon Reader.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took 16 years (2 months), but I got it. For background, you're a field medic, shattered glass!decepticon, helicopter alt mode.

The complexities of space-time fractures, para-linear continuities, and unstable vortex algorithms were all very much  _ outside _ of your range of expertise, thank you very much. Who had time for nonsense like that in the middle of a fragging war, anyway? Except for maybe Shockwave. But Shockwave couldn't have done this… could he?

Field medics like yourself didn't get the same down-time the soldiers received. If you weren't out in the field, you were squirreled away in the medibay with what few passable medics your unit had left, just trying to keep everyone alive. You didn't have time for this, whatever  _ this _ was. 

It had been dreadfully early when your faction was notified that Autobots had hit another human power plant, an attempted raid. Only this time, they brought  _ lots _ of back-up.

It quickly turned into a brawling disaster. Phasers and null-rays blinking blips of light below you, followed by the echoing clang of bots tackling each other, fist to fist. Hard and savage, the Autobots fought like feral beasts.

Some time in, Commander Starscream hailed you on the comms as you hovered above the fight, taking concealment in the fluffy clouds until you were needed. Soundwave was registering bizarre energy wave-lengths in frequencies that he'd never seen. It was likely the Autobots were priming for something else. You were the closest, physically, to the anomaly, did you see anything?

You scanned the sky around you, getting nothing with mass in the feedback. The clouds were thick, though. You could even hear a distant rumble of thunder. 

Had the forecast anticipated rain?

The clouds grew denser around you, scrambling your comms and cutting off your Commander mid-word. Lightning crackled along your plating, dispelled by the unfailing rotations of your blades. 

No one was answering the comms. Not your Commander, not Knock-Out, nothing but high-pitched static. A grinding whine, rising in pitch. Grating painfully against your audials and shaking the denta in your helm until--

You woke up on the ground. 

The light around you was muted, white and hazy. You found yourself inexplicably in root-mode, staring up into the canopy of tall trees from the flat of your back. It was quiet now. So quiet...

A cursory system check illuminated minor injuries like dents and bangs, likely from hitting too many branches on the way down. One of your blades was mangled beyond use, however, so no flying was bringing you out the way you came in. The only truly worrying notifications were in regards to your fuel levels, though. Quite literally running on fumes, but how?

How long had you been in stasis?

Carefully, you picked yourself up off the ground, mindful of your blade. The forest around you was sparse but wide. You didn't… recall a forest like this in the terrain of the raid attempt. The trees were eerily tall, dwarfing even you.

Moving sent urgent reminders to refuel through your processor.  _ Reserves at 9%. _ Without conscious command, parts of your frame were already shutting off; olfactory, medical databank, war computer, anything to preserve the quickly dwindling fuel you had left.

You attempted to open a comm channel before that went down, too.

"Doc?" Nothing. Not even static. You had to reset your vocalizer to try again, the action obeying with a sluggish lag. "Commander? Requesting… groundbridge assistance…"

But there was no reply, save the soft beep of your comm going offline. Followed swiftly and inconveniently by your navigational computer.

_ Reserves at 7% _ .

You moved slowly, carefully, focusing on completing the simple task of moving one pede in front of the other. Mud slipped underpede, but you persisted, climbing out of the small crater your frame had made in the earth. Primus, you didn't think you were  _ that _ dense.

You got no further than six steps between the trees before your legs went numb of feeling and you fell right to your knee joints. Then promptly back onto your aft, a few of your blades digging uncomfortably into the mud. Red alerts were beginning to slow in the urgency of their pinging.  _ Reserves at 4% _

You laid back down again, before gravity did it for you, and offlined every limb.

Panic was seated firmly in the back of your slowing processor. You were out of position, too damaged to move, too underfueled to properly reach out for help, and mere minutes from falling into stasis again. Alone. 

Without energon, it was a stasis you wouldn't wake from.

But how had this happened? How had you come to be here? Only hours ago you were curled up on your berth, and now you were going to offline, alone in a forest. 

With everything filtering through numbed senses, it took far longer than it should have for you to register the sound of approaching pede-steps.  _ Had _ to be pedes, you could feel them in the softness of the earth where you lay.

You realize suddenly that it could be anyone. Any cybertronian on Earth. Your entire existence was banking on them being the pedes of a fellow Decepticon.

Meaning, you could die here, today…

Primus, were you ready? 

_ Reserves at 3% _ .

There was a shape in the mist before you, growing darker as an outline formed. Surprisingly enough, it was a shape you recognized.

And one you did  _ not _ want to be found alone and helpless by. Bereft of options, you forced yourself into stasis. At least you wouldn't feel the pain whilest unconscious.

_ Reserves… a t.. _

\---

  
  


Among the savage nature of being an Autobot, there were a few mech in their faction that did more than frighten you. They  _ terrified _ you. A battle medic was hard to frighten after a millenia of war, you'd seen a lot. 

But you also, foolishly, liked to sit in the rec room and listen to bots tell their war stories. You'd been terrified to learn one of the Autobot's most notorious assassins was on Earth with you. Mechs didn't talk about him, they  _ whispered _ . Quick, ruthless, and sadistic. He had a reputation for never letting his targets die quickly. And the thought of him chilled you to your innermost energon.

_ Bumblebee _ .

Someone you  _ never _ wanted to encounter alone.

Alone and unable to defend yourself, in the dark woods.

_ He was coming _ .

You jolted into consciousness with a burst of static from your vocalizer. The restraints on your limbs dropped you right back onto the berth when you tried to sit up, medical equipment spiking in activity as a bot yelled in surprise.

"Bulkhead! What did you do!?"

Your processor was fuzzy, sound coming through warped a bit. Words slurring together before you went through a small reboot.

You blacked out for only another moment.

When you came back to, the lights seemed less bright, and someone was standing over you.

"Care to scare us like that again?"

In a moment, your tanks dropped like osmium. You knew the bot standing over you, his reputation was… infamous. Autobot CMO: Ratchet the Hatchet. Knock-Out could never utter his name without shivering.

And he was staring impatiently down at you, servos on his hips while you were tethered down to the berth. 

There was a scream building in your vocalizer.

"Don't do that, there's nothin' to panic about."

The door to the room suddenly pressurized open, another bot standing there that froze you in your growing struggle. Bumblebee.

Your scream cut out when you shorted your vocalizer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to do a part 2....


	10. At The Spark pt. 4 - swerve/seeker!reader NSFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> side-eye emoji
> 
> Haha here's more!! I love him maybe....

In all the time you'd been together, Swerve had always been more sociable than you. Chatty, extroverted.

No, it was you other mechs seemed to avoid. Even though you, and many of your kind, defected when your city-state joined the Decepticon side of history. It seemed as though rumors had become a weapon against all neutrally aligned seekers. In the eyes of many, if you weren't an Autobot, then you were a Decepticon. End of discussion. The sigil of the Royal Vosian Air Guard that adorned your wings held very little meaning anymore. 

To everyone, it seemed, except Optimus Prime.

It was his signal, his promise of safe harbor that had brought the pair of you to this planet. Safety was all you were after. Somewhere for you and your conjunx to live in peace, away from the war. You were naturally a little peeved to find yourself directly in the center of it.

You were less shy in voicing your displeasure to a Prime than you probably should have been. But Optimus listened. He listened and he promised to never ask either of you to engage in fighting the Decepticons on their behalf. In return, you agreed to help in energon gathering efforts as payment for living in the _Ark._

The _Ark_ hosted little in the way of private habsuites for everybody. So the two of you found yourselves in open barracks, privacy a thing of the past. Swerve had quickly offered you top bunk. 

"More room for your wings."

He needn't have bothered considering you climbed into the bottom bunk with him at the end of every cycle. Keeping close and crowding his space to make room for those very same wings. 

"Can't recharge without you in arm's reach anyway," Swerve mumbled against your shoulder vents, soft in the dark of the room. It was a sentiment you deeply shared.

Because of such arrangements, the two of you had to get more creative with how you managed to find intimacy. Namely, nature. The mountains were your favorite. A lovely field to tumble around in, beautiful blue sky above. It was nice.

Swerve favored… riskier spots. Like beaches and public parks. Places where the threat of a human wandering along and seeing you get spiked within an inch of your sanity was very real. 

All of these moments were stolen during energon reconnaissance assignments. Prime had yet to comment on these missing chunks of time in your reports. You were both terribly new to this planet, he expected you were exploring. He didn't need to know he was only partially correct. 

Perhaps it was promiscuous of the two of you, but you had no capacity to care. You loved each other, a millenia bound at the spark had done nothing to dull your attraction to him. Swerve's inability to resist the flirty flick of your wings promised you the feeling was still mutual.

Now that everyone was informed to the true nature of your relationship, you felt more relaxed about your tactile contact a midst the group. Silently reasserting yourself with as casual of a gesture as leaning against his frame during gatherings. Bumblebee seemed genuinely glad for you as a pair and the children asked _lots_ of questions.

All in all, life wasn't half bad. 

Swerve seemed to agree. 

He'd barely broken the treeline before he was flipping into a transformation sequence, loud laughter echoing across the field dotted in tiny white flowers.

" _Okay, okay, okay,_ maybe I didn't say it _quite_ like that! But it was close, I swear it was close!"

You coasted in low, flipping into a dive and shifting mid-air to drop into a heavy crouch.

"And what did the Prime say to that?" You prompted, without a break in the conversation. "Because he didn't seem so fond of the idea when Bulkhead mentioned it, either."

"Admittedly! It didn't go over any better this time, but I have some strong feelings about this. I know there ain't many of us, but it could be nice! Picture it! I could turn that unused storage room into a little nook. Y'know, a little hide-a-way." He gestured his servos in a rainbow-like arch. " _Swerve's._ "

You knew he was seeing every perfect little detail of it in his processor. Swerve always did like to dream big. You admired that about him. And you wished you could give him absolutely everything he wanted, if only to keep him smiling as much as he'd started to on Earth.

"Sounds lovely." 

The _Ark_ didn't have the resources, though. You were sure Swerve understood that, it was just nice to have something to dream about.

And dream about it, he did. He sat himself down in the flowers and started describing possible ways of getting a hold of high-grade. You shook your wings and went to join him, choosing not to interrupt his flow.

Instead, you lay down and let the warmth of the sun soak into your armour. It was peaceful, nice. Beside you, Swerve painted a picture with words and you were happy to listen. 

Halfway through him describing his _ideal_ bar size and set-up, you rolled over and gently urged him to lay back. He didn't even pause, letting you handle him however you wanted. So manually opening his spike-housing wasn't a challenge, either. 

He slowly stiffened under the encouragement of your derma, and the wet drag of your glossa. Lengthening into your palm.

It was true that you were with Swerve for many reasons, but the one thing about him you preferred to keep all to yourself was the size of his spike.

Suffice to say it was not designed for a mini-bot. He made some _hefty_ bots look average. And he'd had zero confidence with it until he started interfacing with you. Always more than happy to let him take over the reigns, live out… fantasies. 

He always let you do the same to him so, fair's fair.

You hummed your vocalizer indulgently around the length, hearing a clear hitch in his vents as you took his girth down your intake. Each movement was slow, easy; the taste of his metalmesh a tang on your glossa. And when you made to pull back, a servo found the back of your helm and stopped you. Swerve's spike pulsed greedily in your intake, and you peeked up the length of his chassis to find a _bright_ visor staring back down at you. His bottom lip was sucked between his denta as he took in the sight of you; kneeled obediently between his legs, shamelessly aroused as you went down on his spike.

A spike that pulsed again, bringing the taste of sweet pre-fluid. 

He wasn't letting you pull far off, so you readjusted and went back down, swallowing him to the root. Swerve collapsed flat onto his back with a moan. For the first few moments, he let you keep your pace. Hungry as you serviced him, ignoring aching jaw-hinges. But he wanted more.

So he took more.

You let strong servos cup your helm, easily transferring control to him. First moving your head at a different speed, but quickly starting to thrust into the hot cavern of your intake. His hips met your face thrust-for-thrust, taking his own pleasure from you. 

And your valve clenched in heady want, already lubricating itself generously. Another moan vibrated around the spike in your throat and Swerve cursed, pace faltering.

" _Frag_ babyyoulooksohotrightnow--"

Your wings picked up in a preen, optics meeting his visor again as you shifted your frame. Toying like you might open your spark-casing for him, just a tease of light. 

His engines barked a loud rumble in response.

Curses flowed from your lover in a senseless stream of praise and you could _taste_ how close he was to overloading. Felt it buzzing on the back of your glossa. So you took him to the root again, held, and swallowed.

Swerve overloaded with a shout, holding deep to deliver it all the sooner to your tanks. Something to be purged later. 

He lay like a strutless heap of armor as you gently removed him from your intake, spike retracting lazily. You kissed a slow line up to his helm, delighting in how loud his cooling fans were while he recovered.

"Fraggin' incredible." It was almost a slur.

Kisses and giggles intermixed. Swerve's circuits zinged when he registered the taste of his transfluid on your glossa, the mixture of lubricants that were uniquely yours and his. Something no one else would ever taste.

"My turn?" You mumbled between slow kisses, his derma growing needier against yours.

"Oh babe, get comfy, I'm so ready."

You stretched your arms and wings out, tips fluttering for a moment, then fell back into the dandelions with a content hum. Swerve was quick to scramble after you, giving you a lapful as he did little more than switch the tables and kiss you eagerly again, ignoring your heated valve cover.

He was lucky he was cute. _Oh-_

And that he knew how to use his servos like _that_.

Your cockpit shivered under his bold groping, another servo toying gently with one turbine, knowing just how to flick and touch. Shuddering, you melted into the stimulous; panel sliding open before he'd ever reached your hip joints.

The mouth against yours smiled--no, _smirked_. He pressed one more dizzying kiss to your lips, before tactlessly commenting, "Quiet time."

Then he crawled down your frame.

Swerve's quick glossa knew a thing or two about your valve. Like how to turn "quiet time" into you squealing his designation in shuddering delight as he gently nibbled your metalmesh and ran the flat of his wide glossa over your anterior node in slow drags. Already charged up from having him in your intake, you were leaking lubricants all over his chin as his glossa gently breached the rim of your valve. You hardly needed much preparation, that was evident, but he wanted to finish you anyway.

The sky above you was a beautiful, vibrant blue, and the mech between your legs built your charge up to a peak. Big hands handling you gently as they prevented you from squeezing his helm off when you overloaded with a soft keening moan, one thruster kicking up slightly as it swept through your frame.

" _Sosogood, mmm_ honey, that was _good_."

Swerve chuckled against the quivering petals of your valve, giving it a fond kiss and making your hips jump with an extra _zing_ through your sensornet.

You laughed with him, helping to drag him up your frame with lazy arms. He moved quickly into your neck cables and you didn't even complain when he smeared your valvular lubricants on them in his kissing-journey. _Enthusiastic_ kissing-- "Oh, _Swerve_!"

Denta released your newly-dented cables, a rumble in his engines buzzing against your chassis.

"Sorry, babe, _slag_ you just get me so _revved_."

Far from complaining, you tilted your helm back further with a coy expression.

"I'm good for another, if you want?"

"Pit yeah," he grinned, sitting up and showing off his already re-pressurized spike, letting it trail streaks of pre-fluid over the glass of your canopy. Nothing you couldn't wipe off on the flowers.

Which… was actually a good idea.

Swerve made a surprised sound when you pushed him off of you. But he eagerly watched you shift and roll onto your front. Your wings fanned out wide above you, draping your frame in a sensuous pose and keeping optic contact as you spread your legs.

Engine rumbling again, Swerve clambered after you.

"Oh, you're _so_ gonna be flying funny on the way home."

You barely dropped a wing to glance back at him, optics twinkling.

_"Make me."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twitter @seamobeemo


	11. Mirror Sails pt 2 - tfp!Bee/sg!con reader SFW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tfp Bumblebee is bae and this au will likely have several additions before i'm done. If there anything for them you want to read in particular, feel free to request it.

Life was strange, to say the very least of it. Over the course of your long existence, you'd learned the consider it fact rather than objective opinion. Life was strange and confusing, and it was hurting your processor.

Stasis cuffs. No statis cuffs. Stasis cuffs again.

_ No _ statis cuffs again.

Autobot and Decepticon histories and alliances mixed up in a jumble until  _ everyone _ was confused.

You were a Decepticon field medic, proudly serving on Megatron's flagship under the finest Decepticon CMO to ever hold the title. To be able to work so closely with high command as you all fought tirelessly to end this tyrannical war, you couldn't ask for any higher honor or greater privilege.

You wore your red brand with pride. A Decepticon for the people.

But here…

_ Here _ the Decepticon name represented everything Megatron always warned you against. Here, it was your comrades who were the taint, staining the history of innocent mech. 

It was nauseating. 

On top of that, enemies you'd been fighting against for millions of years were now your only hope at ever finding your way home.

Certainly you understood they were different from the Autobots you knew. The way this Optimus Prime spoke was so hauntingly similar to your own leader. You could almost forget how that deep voice register of his could growl threats so vulgar it made your protoform crawl.

Understandably, you'd needed a few days to adjust. A few days until you stopped flinching when someone spoke to you. Stopped dreading their interactions.

They made it easy on you. Despite visually resembling bots you knew to be vile, you were seeing each of them in reverse character. While he loved to grumble and complain, Ratchet was a kind mech. He treated you with due respect for your position, and handled you with understanding. Under his deft servos, your mangled blade was fixed like new.

It was Ratchet who eventually explained to you that Bumblebee was the one who found you in the woods. Unlike the rumors from your reality, he wasn't frightening at all. Sunny yellow with big, blue optics; he reminded you of a clear sky. Expressive and very friendly. Optimus Prime tasked him with helping you settle in, while they attempted to figure out what brought you into their reality. 

And how to get you home.

He didn't touch you after the first brush had you jumping a few feet in the air. Everything he did respected your personal space and he made himself very easy to talk to on top of that. 

It was a relief you were too shy to voice.

"And that's when we smashed 'um!"

Bulkhead's voice carried so easily, his war story making one of the human children stare up at him with stars in her eyes. It was endearing to see Autobots handle humans so  _ well _ . Bumblebee especially with his small genius. Raf seemed to take a quick liking to you; both of them would prod you for stories from your own reality.

Presently, he was sitting at one of the computer consoles doing his homework. You couldn't help watching over his shoulder. Occasionally, Ratchet would wander over to you and run a scan along your frame. Then grumble, then walk away again. You and Raf both were waiting for Bumblebee to return from patrol with their Prime. The child had made a small rocket in school that he wanted to set off, but he wanted to wait for Bee.

Your attention refocused when Raf said your designation, looking up at you and adjusting his spectacles.

"Yes?"

"How have you been feeling today?"

He asked you that a lot, him and Ratchet both. You gave him a reassuring smile.

"I feel fine, Raf. Honestly."

Whatever lingering charge that had been glitching the color specs in your optics and HUD had fizzled out. You felt completely normal, sitting in an Autobot base in an alternate dimension. 

Until Ratchet walked back over, a scanner in his servo.

"No, no, I think he's on to something. How  _ are _ you feeling?"

He didn't even look up from the scanner screen as he asked, not noticing the look you gave him during your hesitation.

" _ Fine _ ," you replied somewhat dryly.

"Molecules are beginning to vibrate around you." That paused you in surprise. "It's getting stronger! It's--"

A swirling green vortex whirled to life nearby, causing Ratchet's scanner to go haywire. Arcee looked over from the control panel, one optical ridge raised.

"A ground-bridge?"

Ratchet was distracted from embarrassment by the return of his teammates. Two bots rolling through and shifting into bi-pedal mode as the ground-bridge closed behind them. You sat up straighter as well, servos folded neatly while Raf stood up from his chair to greet Bumblebee.

"Optimus," Ratchet greeted them as well. "Any luck?"

"Some, but further evidence must still be gathered. Bumblebee?"

The minibot turned to Prime, buzzing his acknowledgement.

"We will head out again tomorrow morning. Until then, I understand you have some prior engagements." Optimus nodded towards you and Raf, greeting you both pleasantly before going on his way with the others.

"Can we test my new rocket?" Raf asked you both excitedly, making you chuckle.

Bee trilled in high beeps as he shifted into his alt mode, passenger door kicking open. You helped the kid down so he could clamber in.

As you did, Bumblebee buzzed something else, tires turning minutely back and forth. An excited wiggle. You laughed aloud.

"I am  _ much _ too heavy to sit on you, silly mech." You flicked your blades behind you. "But I will race you there."

Bee revved his engine. You, laughing, joined him.

\---

Raf had been exhausted when you both finally dropped him off at home. Exhausted, but happy. He was a good kid.

Instead of hailing a ground-bridge, Bumblebee suggested going home the old fashioned way. He drove, and above him you flew. Pace lazy, relaxed. Enjoying the empty stretch of roads and dusky night full of stars.

Cool air rushed around your frame and the ping of your comm broke the gentle quiet.

It was Bumblebee.

_ I'll say one thing, they don't make nights this beautiful on Cybertron _ .

You wanted to laugh, you called him instead and spoke when the line picked up.

"I can admit to being fond of this sky."

He didn't answer over the line, no buzzing or beeps. Just another ping with another message.

_ Any different from home? _

You glanced down to him on the ground.

"Only the company."

It took a moment for the next one to come in.

_ Bad different? _

You didn't have to consider it long.

"Just different."

Despite being above him, you felt something warm brush your E.M. field. Casual, a gentle feeling. Still mindful of your personal space. This world was lucky, you thought, to have this version of Bumblebee. And you felt lucky to have met him.

"Do you ever miss Cybertron?" You're not sure why you ask it; you can't imagine anyone here wants to answer it any more than the 'Cons back home.

But Bee doesn't seem bothered. You can feel that he's giving your question thought. You can feel him at all, because he's still brushing against your field. Even at the distance. Like he's comfortable with the connection.

You find you don't mind it either.

_ I… _

_ I think I pity Cybertron. _

You bounce a little with the wind.

"How do you mean?"

_ When I was forged, we were already at war. I've only ever seen it as a burning shell of what it used to be. _

He was quiet for a moment, you didn't feel compelled to break it.

_ It must have been something, though. I know every bot misses it. _

Your voice was softer as you replied, "it was…"

\---

Only Ratchet and Optimus were still awake, the both of them looking up as you entered right behind the scout, shifting into root mode. Bumblebee buzzed an apology for bringing you back so late. He didn't feel sorry, though. With wind-chilled plating and relaxed joints, neither were you.

"It's alright, Bumblebee. So long as Raf got home safely."

Bee nodded with a thumbs-up.

_ Us, too. _

That one was just to you, you realized, feeling his shoulder-wheel lightly bump you. Then he was nudging you towards the barracks, and you hadn't realized how tired you were until he was buzzing a low laugh at how slowly you responded in embarrassment. And, unlike before, his touch didn't spark a moment of fear inside of you. 

So you didn't fight him on it. Curling up in a berth sounded like a much better idea. Bee even made sure you didn't roll onto your blades funny, before retreating to his own bunk.

The warmth of his field never left you, though. Your edges remaining comfortably intertwined now, even as your processors slowed down for the cycle.

Bee's message came through softly.

_ Want to sneak out for a drive when I get back tomorrow? _

You onlined a single optic, keeping the blue glow low. There were sleeping bots around you.

_ Another like tonight? _ Chill music, easy familiarity, warm words, a comforting field.

_ Yeah, exactly like tonight. _

You offlined the optic once more. Frame relaxing against the berth cushion. You brushed his field one last time before slipping into recharge.

_ Let's go. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> requests on chapter 1 only!

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me on twitter: @seamobeemo


End file.
